


Ashes

by PotatoPIerrot



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoiler-ish, its kinda like...depressed horny..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 07:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21223016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoPIerrot/pseuds/PotatoPIerrot
Summary: Lio gradually grows impatient seeking a remedy to the tightness in his chest, the hollowness that seems to seep right into his very being. He grows to crave Galo’s caresses that could be like fire against his skin, his kisses that were wet and sloppy yet felt like infernos searing against his lips.Lio chases after that warmth, almost desperately.





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> @google how much longer can i get away with using excerpts as the summary because i suck at it-
> 
> but wow!!! only on my third promare work and im already writing lowkey steamy stuff,,,, just,,,made it sad,,,, im so sorry,,,, lio dear i'll make you happy one day i really will,,,,

Losing his flames was like having some part of himself ripped away. 

It left behind a coldness that’s at times unrelenting, an emptiness that seems to eat away at him day by day. Lio didn’t know how to cope with it. How many layers of clothing must he wear until he’s warm again? What must he do to fill that emptiness—or at the very least cover it? How does one deal with losing a core part of themselves that isn’t physical? 

There’s no one who could give him answers. Other Burnish seemed to deal with it just fine; Meis and Gueira never once reported feeling the same sense of incompletion that plagues Lio. It is perhaps because Lio has had the Promare as his sole reason to exist for so long. It’s perhaps because he had spent so much time alone with only the fire within him as company that losing it felt like losing such a large part of himself. 

Lio gradually grows impatient seeking a remedy to the tightness in his chest, the hollowness that seems to seep right into his very being. He grows to crave Galo’s caresses that could be like fire against his skin, his kisses that were wet and sloppy yet felt like infernos searing against his lips. 

Lio chases after that warmth, almost desperately. 

“Lio, Lio slow down! You’re bleeding!” 

Galo’s alarmed voice reaches even Lio’s hazy thoughts. But Lio couldn’t, he refused to stop. He was so _close,_ so close to reaching that high that’d fill that gaping absence even if it’s just for a minute or two. Galo’s hands slide from his hips to his arms, gripping harder as he pleads for him to _stop, __Lio__, you’re hurting yourself. _Lio doesn't listen, _refuses _to listen until spasms wrack his body and render his mind blank. Until he could, for even just a few seconds, just stop thinking. 

He wants so desperately to just stop thinking. 

Galo barely gives him time to catch his breath, easing him off him the moment he’s ridden off his climax. Lio feels his warm, warm hands over his cheeks, neck, shoulder. 

“Lio, gosh, why did you do that!?” Galo fusses, voice hiking up a pitch with concern. He looks him over as he meticulously cleans them both, as though afraid he might find even more physical wounds manifesting across his skin. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? God, I’m so _sorry _I should’ve—” 

“Galo,” Lio calls with a touch of his arm, “Galo, calm down. I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt.” 

It doesn’t, at least not where he had bled. Galo fetches the shirt he’d tossed aside earlier and drapes it over him, doubt written all over his face. Unprepared to hear what he had to say next, Lio tries distracting him by pointing out that he hasn’t finished. 

But Galo’s firm in stopping him, grabbing his wrist before he could even reach for him. Lio dreads the confrontation, knows that Galo knows exactly how he’s feeling because he no longer had the strength to hide it. He’s just... so tired. Of the thoughts constantly swirling in his head, of feeling like he’d lost the only part of himself that was actually worth something. Of feeling so _alone _even though he’s surrounded by so many good people who love him. 

“It’s just you and me here, Lio,” Galo reminds him, so gently that it makes the lump in Lio’s chest burn. “You don’t have to force yourself to be strong.” 

“No, really, I—” Lio manages before the words trip in his throat. He stops, swallows, and breathes. Then hunches over, covers his face and _laughs_, though perhaps a little too bitterly. “I’ll be alright, Galo. I promise. Just... be here. Please.” 

“Always,” Galo promises, welcoming him into his arms where it always feels like even someone like him could belong. “Always.” 

Lio doesn’t want to cry. He’s in fact afraid to cry, afraid that with every tear he sheds even more parts of himself would break off. But maybe, maybe just this once won’t do as much harm? Just this once with Galo here with him to help pick up the pieces. 

Galo holds him like he’s holding something extremely precious. He holds him like he’s trying to stop him from breaking apart. Lio had entrusted his heart to him, and Galo cradles it close to his own, as though it’s more important to him than anything else. As though to let his own heartbeat constantly remind it that it isn’t alone. 

Perhaps Lio’s hollowness has been filling without him realizing. It’s slow, _unnoticeable _compared to the vast portion of him that’s gone. But it’s there, it has to be. How could he not be healing when Galo’s trying so hard and doing so much for his sake? When Lio himself is learning to love and trust another this much for the first time in his life? 

Lio had been impatient, overeager to move on to the point that it ended up hurting himself instead. He’d tried too hard to achieve something that takes too long. It’s almost funny how well Galo’s words from an entirely different context applied. Slow down, he just had to slow down. 

Because surely, one day he’ll heal completely. 

But for now, maybe he just needs to cry this once. 


End file.
